First Meetings
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: A series of ficlets, comprising of various Doctor Who characters and timelines and other TV characters meeting for the first time... [The result of a prompt meme I have on my livejournal]
1. Condimental Chat

**Condimental Chat - Characters: Jack O'Neil (SG1) and the Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who)**

"Hi!"

Blinking, Jack looked up from his grilled steak sandwich, and stared at the stranger who'd flopped into the vacant seat at the table and began to feverishly rearrange the condiments on the table. Jeeze, what did a guy have to do to get a quiet bite to eat around here...and were those ears real?

"Okay, so it's like this," the stranger said, grinning widely as he waggled a pepper shaker under Jack's nose. "This is a Dalek, and this ...this is you!" Jack silently eyed the ketchup sachet the lunatic had snatched from the table, before slowly leaning back and glancing over his shoulder.

"Oy, trying to save the world here," the stranger said, impatience dripping off his words. "And yes, I _am_ talking to you."

"So happy to hear it," Jack drawled dryly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. If this was another one of Daniel's practical jokes... "Makes me feel all special."

"Ah, it speaks," the idiot said cheerfully. "There's hope for you yet."

"Yeah, people keep telling me that. Personally, I think they're being a little overly optimistic."

"And sarcasm!" the stranger chirped cheerfully. "Fantastic! Now, if we've got the witty repartee out of the way, let's get down to business."

"And what business would that be?" Jack asked wearily, giving the cooling steak sandwich a wistful look.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Psychotic killer aliens trying to wipe out humanity," the stranger, said, his grin dropping from his face like a mask. "Happens more often than you'd think...but you already know that, don't you, Jack? So, as I was saying, this is a Dalek, and this is you--"

"Who the hell are you?" Jack interrupted flatly.

The stranger gave him a long, even look and leaned back in his chair. "Someone who's trying to help," he said softly. "And, trust me, you need help. You think the replicators were bad? The Daleks will make them look like a rowdy tea party, with too many rice krispy cakes...so let me help you."

Jack eyed the stranger, gauging him. "What did they do to you?" he asked softly.

"They destroyed my world," the stranger said simply, his eyes shadowed. "They eradicated them from history... as if they'd never existed."

Jack sighed, an alien, why was he not surprised? "You have a name?"

"They call me the Doctor."

Jack blinked.

"Ah, heard of me, have you?"

"I've read the file," Jack mumbled. "Torchwood _really _doesn't like you...although UNIT seems to differ on the subject."

"Ah, yes, you guys are actually sharing information, nowadays," the Doctor mused. "Pity it took an Ori threat to make you do it."

"I don't trust you."

"You don't trust anybody, but that's okay...all you have to do is listen."

"And if I don't?"

Carefully, the Doctor laid the sachet on the table, then slammed the pepper shaker down on it. The restaurant hushed, and Jack winced as he watched the ketchup leak all over the tablecloth. "That answer your question?" the Doctor asked

"Couldn't you have picked a less messy way of making your point," Jack complained.

"I believe in coming straight to the point," the Doctor said. "You willing to listen now?"

Jack sighed, so much for a quiet lunch. "I'm listening."

**FINIS**


	2. Sorry To Bother You

**Sorry To Bother You - Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Fourth doctor and Romana (Doctor Who)**

Dean leaned against the Impala, and eyed the contraption Sam had dragged him halfway across town to see. "It's a box, Sammy; a blue wooden box, with windows," he said. "A bit weird, but not exactly life threatening."

"There's something not quite…right about it, Dean," Sam said, frowning worriedly. "Call it a feeling."

"Listen, if it doesn't rise from the grave, have yellow eyes, grow fur in the full moon, or sprout fangs, then weird is all right with me," Dean drawled. "Let's get out of here. There's still that ghost down in San Fran we have to deal with."

"But—"

"Oh, I say, sorry to bother you but can I squeeze by?"

Bemused, Dean eyed the petite blonde, who had appeared out of nowhere on the sidewalk beside them, wearing a boater hat and school tie and an expectant look on her face.

"Um…what?" Sam asked.

Sighing, the cute blonde dangled a yale key on a chain in front of his face. "Kind of in a hurry, sorry; could you move out of the way?" Bemused, Sam stepped aside, sharing a glance with Dean as the blonde inserted the key into the box's lock, and stepped inside it, firmly closing the door behind her. A few moments later, a deep, mechanical hum emanated from the box, and a shiver ran down Dean's spine.

"Okay, okay," he muttered under his breath. "So maybe there's something not quite right with this picture—"

"I say, coming through, coming through!"

As one, Dean and Sam stared down the street and watched as a tall, bizarrely dressed man dodged the pedestrian traffic. "Oh, look, he's coming _our_ way," Sam said smugly. "Want to lay odds on whether he's connected with little Miss Schoolgirl?"

Dean threw Sam a dirty look, before eyeing the long, stripy scarf that fluttered behind him. "Okay, okay, you've made your point," he sighed. "But I still don't see what _we _have to do with it."

A bright smile gleamed on the stranger's face as he skidded to a halt in front of them. "I say, sorry to bother you, but—"

"Can you squeeze by," Dean and Sam chanted in unison.

The grin grew wider. "Ah, met Romana, have you?" He said breezily, as he neatly sidestepped them and rapped on the box's door.

"Um, excuse me, but who exactly are you?" Sam asked, as Dean frowned and looked over his shoulder as the door opened. What was that strange noise?

"Oh, I'm the Doctor, pleased to meet you," the Doctor said, grasping Sam's hand firmly and shaking it. "Well, must dash…oh, and I'd start running, if I were you…"

"Wait—" But it was too late, the Doctor had already stepped inside, and door was once again firmly shut.

A low bellow in the distance caught Dean's attention, and he blinked as he looked down the street. "Um…Sammy?" he said, tapping his brother on the shoulder.

Sam ignored him as he knocked firmly on the box's door. "Hey, you in there, open up!"

"There's a Tyrannosaurus Rex on the sidewalk, Sammy."

Slowly, Sam turned and looked…up. "Oh, shit," he said.

"Shotgun," Dean pronounced. "Large bore."

And neither of them noticed the box fade away, with a whine of engines, as they scrambled for the Impala's trunk…

**FINIS**


	3. So, do you come here often?

**So, do you come here often? - Characters: Vala Mal Doran (SG1), Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who and Torchwood)**

Alferon, backwater planet at the far end of the galaxy and Ori outpost; what a planet to spend your vacation on. He'd read about the conflict at school, of course, but it was one thing reading a dry text, another entirely when it comes to life in front of your eyes.

It had seemed a good idea at the time. Why, he didn't know, he'd been feeling a little lonely, he supposed. So when the Doctor and Martha had materialised in the middle of the hub, at four o'clock in the morning, and came bouncing out of the TARDIS, full of smiles and hugs, he couldn't resist.

He should have realised there was a catch; the catch being the Doctor and Martha.

Jack sighed, why they didn't just stop nagging each other and shag already, he didn't know. It really wasn't that complicated…and he really didn't appreciate being the buffer between them, thank you very much…unless it was in the literal sense, of course…

He grinned at the thought, and took another sip of the ale, trying to not make a face as the bitter brew went down his throat. He'd have to get back to the TARDIS soon, or the Doctor might get it into his head to do another disappearing act.

"Please, you have to help me!"

Jack's ears perked up at the quiver in the woman's voice, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he turned his head and eyed the attractive woman who was leaning over the counter, looking up at the bartender through her eyelashes, with big, puppy dog eyes. He noted the artfully shown cleavage, heaving ever so attractively, and smothered a grin. Damn, she was good, nearly as good as him.

"You see," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "My husband died during the Ori attack and…well…I still have the children to think of. This world isn't safe anymore but there isn't any transport available, and I was wondering if…I've got money?" her voice broke slightly, and he'd be damned if there wasn't a tear welling up in the burly bartender's eye.

Okay, so maybe she was a little better than him…it was still a close call, though.

"I'll see what I can do," the bartender muttered, patting her hand as his eyes travelled downward. "How many children do you have?"

"Four," the woman sniffed. "Three boys and a girl…the poor things are lost without their father. I keep telling them that he's gone to a better place but…"

"The bartender nodded. "I know how it is," he said.

The woman sighed morosely. "It's poor little Cam who's taking it the hardest, he absolutely idolised his father. Jack was his hero, you see…"

Jack spluttered into his ale, and earned a baleful look from the bartender.

"You got a problem with the ale?" he asked dourly.

"Oh no," Jack lied, flashing his best smile. "Fine ale, best in the galaxy."

The woman quirked an eyebrow, and looked him up and down. "I don't recognise your accent?" she said.

"I'm not from around these parts," he said. "Just passing through." Her eyes lit up, and Jack mentally kicked himself. Now why did he have to say that?

"You have a ship?" she asked eagerly, and Jack wondered what her game was; best if he didn't hang around to find out.

"Sorry, just a passenger," he said, getting to his feet and throwing on his coat. "Well, it's been nice meeting you..." He'd barely made it onto the street before he heard the swing of the tavern's doors behind him.

"Wait!"

Jack sighed, and halted as she caught up. "Listen, I can't help you. Our ship isn't taking any more passengers. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"You don't understand. It's a matter of life and death. If you don't help me, a lot of people are going to die."

Jack smirked and rolled his eyes, as he turned to walk away. "Listen, honey, you're good, but there's no way I'm gonna fall for that line."

A hand caught his arm. "It's not a line, I'm deadly serious," she said, her voice low and urgent, and Jack turned to meet her eyes.

"You really are, aren't you?" he mused aloud.

"And you're from Earth," she said. "I recognise the language on your coat…you'd better dump that, by the way. Most of the locals wouldn't know a Tauri from an Asgaard, but the Ori patrols are looking for strangers."

"Who are you?"

"My name's Vala," she said.

Jack's mind flitted back to the history lessons of his childhood. "Vala? _You're _Vala Mal Doran? You're kidding me, right?"

"You've heard of me?" A small frown of puzzlement showed on her face, and it was all Jack could do not to laugh. Vala Mal Doran, part of SG1 and the Stargate program, the ones who eventually…wait a minute, that meant—

"SG1 are _here_?" he blurted out.

"You _are_ from command!" she said eagerly. "What team are you with? And you really should talk to whoever's in charge of your off world wardrobe. That coat's a dead giveaway."

Jack grinned cheekily. "Captain Jack Harkness at your service, ma'am. How may I help?"

A quirk of a smile lifted her lips. "What kind of service are we talking about?"

Oh yeah, he was going to enjoy _this._

**FINIS**


	4. Interesting Times

**Interesting Times – Characters: Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who), Amanda Darieux (Highlander)**

The plan had worked perfectly, a little too perfectly. It smelt like a trap, but the lure of the Dagleish Blue Diamond was too much for Amanda to resist...she pressed the stethoscope against the safe door.

"Hallo."

Amanda resisted the urge to jump as she felt a soft breath fall against her cheek. "Come here often?" she asked lightly, as she tensed to run.

"First time," the stranger said, as he dropped his chin onto her shoulder. "You? It's 24 right, 6 left, 82 right, by the way."

Amanda looked at him dubiously out of the corner of his eye as she wondered how he'd managed to sneak up on her. "You seem very sure of that," she said suspiciously as she took in his dark leather coat and worn jeans. Could he be security?

"Process of elimination, really," he said, with a knowing grin. "He keeps a picture of his wife and daughter on his desk, but the photo he keeps in his top drawer is of—"

"His mistress," Amanda finished for him. It was obvious, once you thought about it. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough to see you trigger the silent alarm when you crossed the rug."

Okay, not security, then…a competitor, perhaps? "Let me guess, you were just about to crack the safe, when I arrived and interrupted you."

"Not exactly," he murmured. "I was looking for a really good thief and, I thought to myself, where would I find one in London at this time of night?" His grin grew wider. "Guess where I ended up?"

They both eyed the safe. "You're not going to let me take it, are you?" Amanda asked rhetorically.

The stranger shrugged. "Bit academic, really, the house is completely surrounded by now," he said.

"It's worth a fortune."

"It's worth eight to ten," he pointed out. "I'm the Doctor, by the way."

"Charmed, I'm sure."

"Want to see my getaway car?"

Amanda eyed him ruefully. As pick up lines went, she couldn't fault his timing. "I'd love to, but reaching it might be a bit problematic," she said dryly.

"I used indoor parking."

"The garage isn't attached to the house."

"Trust me, that isn't a problem."

"Famous last words," Amanda said dryly. "You said you were looking for a thief…?"

"Correction, I said I was looking for a really_ good _thief," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Not so sure that's you, seeing as you triggered that alarm pad under the rug—"

His grin reminded her of Methos when he was being particularly smug, and a little alarm bell went off in her head. "I didn't_ cross_ the rug," she realised suddenly.

"You didn't…oops, guess it was me, then."

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

"I thought it might help usher things along," he admitted, not looking the least bit sorry.

Amanda threw a longing glance at the safe. "Just one peek?"

"Leave it," he said quietly. "It's not as if you really wanted the diamond, anyway; you just wanted the challenge."

Amanda gave him a measuring look. "You seem to know an awful lot about me," she said. "Why is that?"

"Did my research," he said simply. "Come on."

Amanda crossed her arms and gave him a level look. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you," she said flatly.

"I can't," he said. "But I _can_ promise you it won't be boring."

Amanda laughed, despite herself. "That I don't doubt, but you know what they say about interesting times—" Hushed voices emanated from the stairs, and Amanda sighed. "It seems the local constabulary have decided to join us."

"Eight to Ten," he reminded her, stretching out his hand.

It took only a moment to decide. "Lead on, McDuff," she said, as she let his fingers curl around hers.

He smiled.

**FINIS**


	5. Guess Who’s Coming to Tea

**Guess Who's Coming to Tea****– Characters: Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Havelock Vetinari and Leonardo De Quirm (Discworld)**

With deliberate care, Vetinari descended the steps, his hand sliding into his cloak as the voices echoed through the tunnel.

"…so, you see, Doctor, if you attach the rotors here and put the alcohol propelled engines there, I think it will work.

"Yes, I can see that, Leo, but don't you think it might be a little dangerous to attach weaponry to it?"

"Weaponry?" Leonardo de Quirm's voice sounded bemused. "Whatever do you mean?"

Vetinari halted as there was the rustle of paper. "I mean these, Leo." The voice was gentle, almost cajoling, as if the stranger was talking to a child…and, in a way, maybe he was.

"Ah, you mean the automated lead pellet firing mechanism? But, my dear Doctor, those aren't weapons, they're purely for clearing the airspace for flight, there are a lot of wild swamp dragons in the area you know, couldn't have them getting snarled in the engines!"

"Ah…I see."

Vetinari grimaced as his hand curled around his dagger. Leonardo De Quirm was undisputedly one of the finest geniuses of this age, but in matters of the world he was remarkably naïve; which was why he kept him safely ensconced in the bowels of the palace, away from those who would take his designs a step beyond the drawing board. Silently, he sped down the tunnel towards the door and tested the handle. It was locked.

Vetinari frowned. This was the only entrance into Leonardo's quarters, yet the stranger found a way inside. A wizard, perhaps…but what would a wizard want with Leonardo's designs? He slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door a crack…

"I always enjoy your little visits, Doctor, they're so illuminating," Leonardo said, his voice cheerful as he poured the stranger a cup of tea. "Havelock tries to visit as much as possible, but his mind is usually concerned with matters of state."

"Ah, yes, Havelock is your patron, isn't he?" the peculiarly garbed figure said breezily as propped his feet on the table and took a sip out of his cup.

"The best one I've ever had," Leonardo said cheerfully. "Never bothers me about my projects, just let's me carry on and keeps me in supplies, fine chap!"

"Hmm," amusement coloured the stranger's voice. "No doubt he is…and I'm sure he keeps a complete record of all your ideas."

"Locks them up safe and tight…can't be too careful when it comes to patents, you know."

"Indeed." The stranger said as he placed his cup on a small clear space on the table. "Well, it's been nice catching up with you, Leo, we must do this again soon." The stranger bounced to his feet energetically, and grinned widely.

Vetinari raised an eyebrow as Leonardo's face fell. "So soon?"

"I'm afraid so, old chap. You know how it is."

Leonardo nodded reluctantly. "I still have rather fond memories of our travels…of course, I'm not as young and spry as I once was…"

"Nonsense," the stranger said, giving Leonardo a one armed hug. "And maybe one day we'll do it again; but, for now, I think this may be the perfect place for you to be… and I think your patron might agree. Don't you, Havelock?"

A strange feeling rose in Vetinari's chest, and it took him a moment to recognise the sensation as surprise. It wasn't a feeling he was well acquainted with. Slipping the dagger back up his sleeve, Vetinari straightened and let the door fall open. "You have me at a disadvantage," he murmured, quelling the uneasy thought that this was actually true. "You know my name, but I don't know yours…?"

"Ah, well, hardly surprising, that," the stranger amiably. "After all, it _is _kind of difficult to visit Ankh-Morpork and_ not_ know your name…oh, I'm the Doctor, by the way."

A hand was thrust in front of him, and Vetinari eyed the Doctor's wiggling fingers. Even the man's handshake was full of restless energy. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the eager smile on Leo's nodding face, and gave into the inevitable. Disappointing Leonardo was not unlike kicking a puppy, and he was rather fond of dogs.

He shook the Doctor's hand.

"Well, that's my cue to leave, I suppose," the Doctor said brightly. "Nice meeting you, Havelock. Take good care of my friend, will you? I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to him."

Vetinari rolled the Doctor's words around in his mind as he caught his eye. Taken at face value, they were innocuous enough, but the Patrician recognised an unspoken threat when he heard one…and something told him that Doctor didn't make idle threats.

"Oh, Doctor, don't be such a worrywart," Leonardo, boomed cheerfully. "How could I be in any danger? I'm just a poor, befuddled artist. Who'd want to harm me?"

Once again, Vetinari's eyes met the Doctor's and a glimmer of understanding ran between them.

"Yes, well," the Doctor said eventually as he bounced over to a large blue wooden box, which had somehow managed to blend into the background, in the corner of the room. Vetinari idly wondered if it was another sapient pearwood artefact; it had that look about it. "See ya soon, Leo."

Vetinari watched as Leonardo gave the Doctor a sad little wave as he disappeared into the box and discreetly cleared his throat. "An old friend?" he ventured.

"Oh yes," Leonardo said cheerfully. "He's a scientist, you know. A real one, mind, not a mere dabbler, like me."

"Indeed," Vetinari murmured and he watched bemusedly as a strange, rather eldritch, boom emanated from the box, as it slowly dematerialised in front of his eyes.

"Ah," he said. "Definitely sapient pearwood, then.

And Leonardo gave his benefactor a knowing smile that was strangely at odds with his usual, naïve nature.

**FINIS  
**


	6. The Patient

**The Patient –****Characters: Martha Jones (Doctor Who) and Amanda Darieux (Highlander)**

"Multiple injuries," one of the ambulance crew said, handing her the chart. "Rib fractures, ruptured lung, suspected internal injuries… flat lined briefly in the ambulance and she hasn't regained consciousness since."

Martha quickly flipped through the chart as she followed the cart. "Some of these injuries aren't consistent with an auto accident," she said.

The ambulance man shrugged. "We suspect they occurred before the accident."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "Abdominal wounds, consistent with a sword or dagger?"

"I just call them as I see them."

Sighing, Martha followed the cart into the theatre. "Has somebody paged Mr Reynolds?" she asked Alice, who hurried in after her.

"He's still in surgery," she said briskly as she hurried to the sink to scrub up.

"Great, just great," Martha muttered as she joined her at the sink. Alice Fines was one of the most experienced theatre nurses in A&E, but she would still have preferred to have a consultant at hand.

"You'll be fine," Alice said. "Have we got a name?"

"Amanda Darieux," one of the ambulance crew piped up as he hooked the patient up to the hospital heart monitor.

"Next of kin?" Martha asked as she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

"Not that we could find in her wallet," he said as he made a beeline for the door. "Good luck."

"Right." Martha took a deep breath. "Lung puncture and abdominal blade injuries first."

Alice raised an eyebrow as she slit through the patients clothing. "I thought she was injured in a car accident?"

"She's had a busy day."

"Is it just my imagination, or do you always get the weird ones?" Alice asked as she inserted a drip into the patient's arm.

Martha smiled grimly. "Guess I'm just lucky that way," she said, as she swabbed the blood away. "Okay… that's funny, I though the entry wounds were supposed to be…" Quickly, she rechecked the chart.

"Problem?" Alice asked.

"The chart said there were entry wounds on her abdomen," Martha said, frowning.

"There isn't?"

"No."

"Where's the blood from?"

Martha frowned as she checked the rib cage. "Don't know…and you know what? I don't feel any rib fractures." On a hunch, Martha checked the patient's chest with a stethoscope. "Huh, no sign of a ruptured lung either." A suspicion lurked to the surface of Martha's mind, as she glanced at the patient's heart rate on the monitor, and Alice's eyes followed her gaze.

"BPM seventy five, BP one ten over seventy," she said, "Seems to be stable."

"_Perfectly _stable," Martha muttered under her breath, as she picked up the chart once more and pulled out her pen. "Just another one of those pranks specially designed for the new girl on the ward, I suppose."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "A bit elaborate," she ventured. "And the patient still hasn't regained consciousness.

"She doesn't have a sword wound in her gut, either," Martha pointed out. "My guess is the poor woman fell and bumped her head, and the ambulance crew decided to have a little fun at my expense."

"Well, it's a new one on me," Alice said dryly. "In my day, they stuck to paging the new doctors in the middle of their nap with imaginary emergencies."

Martha smirked. "Been there, done that," she said. "I guess they decided to up the stakes; I'll just have to grin and bear it, I suppose. Do me favour, Alice, keep this between us. I don't want it getting around that I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I'd never get any peace."

"And you want to keep them guessing," Alice said, with a knowing smile. "Maybe even let them get a little worried about what sort of revenge you're dreaming up."

Martha's smirk became a grin. "Careful, Alice, you're giving me ideas," she said, biting the end of her pen.

"Something tells me you don't need help with that," Alice said as she peeled her surgical gloves off. "I'll leave you to rewrite the chart, shall I?"

"See you in a few minutes," Martha said, her smile dropping from her face the moment the doors swung closed behind her.

"What to do, what to do?" said said, with an elaborate sigh. "A CAT scan could be in order, I suppose, but first maybe I should-" Lightening fast, Martha poked the patient's arm with the nib of her pen, and snorted as the patient suddenly sat up with a yelp.

"Figured as much," she said, crossing her arms.

"How did you know?" her suddenly recovered patient asked.

"You twitched when I put the stethoscope on your chest," Martha drawled. "Guess I should have warmed it up for you."

"Damn, I didn't think you'd noticed."

"So, what are you?"

"Don't you mean who?" the patient asked, with a nervous laugh.

"No, I mean what," Martha said dryly.

"Well, I'm a circus performer, if you mus-"

"Oh _please_," Martha said shortly, rolling her eyes. "Don't even try to play the Little-Miss-Innocent with me; I'll give you to the count of five to tell me what species you are. Better make it convincing, because if I don't like your answer, you'll be spending the next few years in a Torchwood cell – if you're lucky."

"Torchwood?" the patient said, frowning. "Who the hell are-"

"Five."

"Listen, I don't know what you think I am but I can assure you-"

"Four."

"I'm perfectly human, honest. This is just a little misunderstanding-"

"Three."

"Will you _stop _doing that. I told you, I'm hum-"

"Two!" Martha declared, pulling out her phone. Not that she could actually use it the theatre room, of course, but she was betting that her new 'patient' didn't know that.

"Okay! Okay! I'm an immortal! There, satisfied now?"

Martha frowned. "Doesn't ring a bell, what planet are you from?" she asked.

"Earth, of course, where else?" Her eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, I suppose our surprise visit from the stars, a few months back, has made everyone a little jumpy."

Puzzled, Martha eyed the patient; if she didn't know any better, she'd swear the woman was telling the truth. "And your name?"

"Amanda, Amanda Darieux," the woman sighed. "Listen, I don't suppose you could just keep this between us – doctor, patient confidentiality? It's just that my kind like to keep a low profile."

"Your kind? You mean there's more of you?" Martha asked, feeling a moment of misgiving.

"A few," Amanda sighed. "Listen, all I want is a quiet life. No attention, no needles, I guess you know where I'm going with this…?"

Martha arched an eyebrow. "You're afraid I'm going to have the sudden urge to go all Frankenstein on you," she said flatly.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Amanda said, with feeling. "A few of our kind got netted in World War II, they never really recovered from it…and, let's face it, being 'different' isn't a very safe thing to be, nowadays."

Martha bit her lip. The woman had a point, and she seemed harmless enough. Still, it would be smart to ask a few more questions. "Okay, I'll be frank," she eventually said. "You said it yourself, everyone is a little jumpy nowadays about nonhuman-"

"Um, actually, I _am _human," Amanda interrupted. "Same physiology, same brain functions and blood types…apart from our ability to heal quickly, we're just like you."

"I see," Martha said flatly. "And what else?"

"Else?"

"You're leaving something out. Better come clean now, I don't want to have to do this the hard way."

"Neither do I" Amanda said coolly, and Martha mentally revised her opinion of the woman; maybe not so harmless, after all.

"Just spit it out."

Amanda made a face and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Cautiously, Martha took a step back, and the Immortal smiled ruefully at her reaction. "We don't age," she said simply. "We don't die. We just keep going, century after century, millennia after millennia. None of us know why. Oh, sure, they're a few mythologies that some of us believe in, but a concrete truth?" She made a half shrug.

"Huh," Martha said softly. "Tell me, does the name Rose mean anything to you?"

"Who?"

"No, bit of a reach, I suppose," Martha murmured aloud. "Why is it always me?"

"This happen to you a lot?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Sounds like a story," Amanda smiled slyly. "Tell you what, how about you find me something to wear, and I'll treat you to dinner when you finish your shift?"

"Are you trying to bribe me with dinner?" Martha said, smiling wryly.

"Is it working?"

Martha paused as she went through her options. Jack had made sure she had his number on speed dial the moment he realised she was sticking around for a while, and Torchwood had the facilities to deal with this kind of thing…but something in her gut told her that world domination wasn't exactly on Amanda's 'to do' list. "Depends on the restaurant," she prevaricated

"Well, I've always had a soft spot for the Ritz," the Immortal drawled. "How about you?"

To say that the Ritz was slightly out of Martha's budget was putting it mildly. "Yeah, that'll work," she said, a grin lurking on her lips as she came to a decision. "Mind if I bring someone along?"

"Is he cute?"

"Very, and single," Martha said, her grin widening. From the mischievous glint in the immortal's eyes, she figured she could be in for quite a show.

"Ooh, sounds scrumptious," Amanda drawled. "Can he dance?"

An image of Jack doing the tango sprung to Martha's mind. "Oh yeah, he can dance."

"How delightful, is he amenable to threesomes?"

Martha blinked; never let it be said that Martha Jones wasn't an adventurous girl, but something told her she may be a little out of her depth – what would the Doctor do in this kind of situation?

Oh, yeah….

"Stop it!"

**FINIS**


	7. Portally Yours

**PORTALLY YOURS - Characters: Harry Dresden, Karrin Murphy, Mouse (Dresden Files Books) and the Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who)**

There are times when I think I've seen it all. Homicidal fairy Godmothers, zombie dinosaurs, fallen angels who can't seem to figure out if they want to kill me or have me enlist…

I lead an eventful life; you get the picture.

Which is why, when I pulled my trusty, not-so-Blue Beetle in beside Murphy's Harley, I came prepared. The rings on my unscarred hand were fully loaded, my old and battered shield bracelet was firmly attached to my wrist and my blasting rod was already in my grip as I climbed out onto the sidewalk.

"Took you long enough. What did you do? Get out and push?" Barely skating above five feet, with a pert little nose and short blonde hair, Murphy didn't exactly look the part of a hard bitten Chicago cop - until you saw the steel in her glittering, blue eyes. Today, she wore a black bikers jacket over pair of faded blue jeans and a red checked shirt. If the Harley hadn't already tipped me off, her casual clothes would have. This was off the clock.

"What did I tell you about mocking the Blue Beetle, Murph, not in front—"

"Of the engine," she intoned, her eyes flipping back into a roll even as a hint of a smile twitched her lips. "I sometimes wonder if it even has one. I'm tempted to pop the hood and check. What does it run on, elastic bands?"

"Fairy dust," I threw back at her. The fact that Murphy took a moment to gauge whether or not I was joking probably says a lot about my life.

A gently huff reminded me of my back seat passenger and I turned to eye the large wet nose pressed up against the glass. I opened the door and Mouse jumped out, surprising lithe for a dog that could easily be mistaken for a very shaggy pony in the right light.

"Hey, Mouse," Murphy murmured, scratching behind his ears as he nudged against her in greeting. "Came to make sure he doesn't get over his head, huh?"

Mouse huffed in agreement, his jaw dropping into a grin, and Murphy laughed as she scratched under his chin. Huh, so much for doggy loyalty, and If you think I'm suffering from anthropomorphic delusions, think again. He knows exactly what he's doing; something to do with him having a demigod for an ancestor. Long story.

I think I'll forgive him just this once, though. Murphy didn't laugh a lot nowadays. That, too, is a long story. "So what's this all about, Murph, or did you just call me in the hopes of getting some alone time with dog-breath here," I teased.

Murphy straightened, her expression becoming businesslike as she caught my eye. "I need you to check someone out for me, see if he's on the up and up," she said.

I raised an eyebrow at that. "I don't think you need me for that, Murph," I said. "Your gut instincts are usually right on the money when it comes to judging people."

Murphy shrugged. "Yeah, well, this guy kind of gives me mixed signals," she admitted. "I think he's trustworthy, but I can't seem to shake the feeling he's also pretty dangerous. I guess I want a second opinion."

"Say no more," I drawled. "It has all become clear."

"Oh, is that so?" Never let it be said that Murphy doesn't know when to feed me a line.

"It's one of those blind dates Stallings is always threatening to set you up with, isn't it? Has he tried to convince you to go away with him to his summerhouse in the Hampton's yet? Because if he has, he's definitely serial killer material."

"You don't say?"

"Well known fact. Typical profile behaviour; one moment you're watching the sunset with him, sipping a champagne cocktail and wishing you'd packed that silk nightie you'd been keeping for a special occasion, the next…wham! You're body parts in the freezer. My advice? Just say no."

Murphy snorted. "You're a pig, Dresden."

"Oink, oink," I said amiably. "Why am I here, Karrin?"

You'll see," she said enigmatically as she led the way down the street.

I knew that I wouldn't be able to drag any more details out of Murphy before she ready, so I snapped on Mouse's lead and fell into step beside her. Murphy turned into a narrow side alley beside a small diner and picked her way through the garbage that choked its entrance. "Uh, Murphy, if you trying to figure out whether the diner owner is the type to litter, I think I've already solved the mystery for you…"

"Nearly there," Murphy said over her shoulder.

"Nearly whe…huh, now that's not something I see every day."

It was an old British Police box, the kind that brings up images of old fashioned bobby hats and whistles. I figure most people wouldn't recognise it as easily as I did, but then most people don't have a weakness for old, Ealing comedies.

So far, so good. True, it wasn't the sort of thing you usually find at the bottom of a dark, Chicago alley. For one thing, it wasn't holding a bottle in a brown paper bag or waving a switch blade at me, but it wasn't something you'd call out the local PD for.

But then again, neither was the big, honking inter-dimensional portal it was hovering over. "Oh, Murphy, you know all the cool places," I said dryly.

"It's pretty hot, actually,"

I whirled about, my blasting rod already at the ready as I tried to pinpoint the source of the disembodied voice. I hoped it wasn't in my head. I'd just gotten rid of the its last uninvited guest, the last thing I needed was another squatter. Especially one with a chirpy, British accent.

Murphy gave me an amused look. "Uh, Harry?"

"Yeah?

"Down there."

I followed the tilt of Murphy's head, and took a step back as a hand appeared over the edge of the portal and waved. "Hi there, you must be Harry Dresden," the voice said. "I say, could I bother you for a hand?"

I slid a glance at Murphy, who just shrugged, seemingly content to let me come to my own decision. "Depends," I ventured. "Do you mean that literally?" Just so you'll know, you're not allowed to call me paranoid until you've walked a mile in my shoes.

"Uh, no actually, already got a spare. Thanks for asking, though." the voice answered, completely unfazed by my question. Guess that kind of thing happens to him too. Sighing, I transferred my blasting rod to my burned hand and offered him my good one. Big mistake.

When Murphy asked me to check this guy out, I suspected what she _really_ meant was that I check out if he was actually a _guy_. The world is full of entities that can pass for human. Some of them are benign, but a lot of them will rip your throat out for an entree without batting an eyelash.

A wizard has a few tricks that can help him separate the wolves from the sheep. One of those tricks is the second sight. Very effective, but when you use your second sight, you see things as they truly are; warts, homicidal tendencies and all. Worse still, the images stay with you for life and never fade. Which is why wizards avoid using it whenever possible and use less extreme measures.

Like, say, shaking a guy's hand.

It was like being hit a mac truck going down a freeway. This guy had power, and he had it in spades. I staggered under the weight of it, and Murphy frowned.

"Need a little help?" she asked. "I didn't think he'd be that heavy."

"'S not that," I said, through gritted teeth.

"Then what—"

"It's okay, I'm okay, just got taken by surprise, that's all," I said tersely.

A frown developed on Murphy's forehead, but she backed off. Another hand, and a skinny leg heaved its way over the edge of the portal, and the weight eased off my arm.

"Ah, that's better," the entity said as he pulled his narrow frame onto the asphalt and rolled onto his back. "It's bloody stifling in there."

For a moment, I just stared at him as I tried to figure out how to the phrase the question. 'Excuse me, but you're not from around here, are you?' just didn't seem to cover it.

The entity, - because, whatever he was, he certainly wasn't human – didn't seem to notice my protracted silence as he dusted his clothes off. "Thanks for coming," he said breezily. "Sergeant Murphy gave me the impression you might be a little bit reluctant."

"No, really?" I asked, recovering my voice. "I wonder why?" Sarcasm, the last refuge of the wary wizard. "You got a name?"

"I'm the Doctor," the entity said.

"Doctor of what?" I asked.

The entity blinked. "Well, that makes a refreshing change," he said. "Usually people ask Doctor W—. Oh, sorry, getting off the subject." A manic grin popped up in his face, and I took a guarded step back. You'd be surprised at the amount of people who've tried to kill me after grinning at me like that. "I'm a scientist, of sorts," he blithely continued, turning his attention to the portal. "I suppose you could say I specialise in things like, well, like this."

The 'this' in question was beginning to eat up the asphalt at a slow but steady pace, it's edges making it's way towards the alley walls. "It isn't stable," I muttered.

"Weeeell," the entity – the Doctor – drew out the word as if it was entitled to a whole sentence to itself. "I wouldn't say that. It's not exactly unstable, just…growing."

"When is it going to stop?"

"Um, that's kind of the problem, actually. It's not."

An edge of worry had crept into the Doctor's voice, and I turned to glare at him. "Did you do this?" I asked grimly.

The Doctor pulled a face. "Not directly, no. More of an unforeseen side effect of a little problem I was taking care of."

"A little problem?"

"Inter-dimensional scavenger. Nasty bugger, likes to eat brains, the more sentient the better. Trouble is, when he skipped town, he left the door open after them."

"Skipped town?" I drawled, amused at his turn of phrase.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. Don't often get the chance to hang out with a gumshoe in Chicago."

Murphy snorted. "You're a few decades too late."

"I wasn't, actually." He said it casually, but something told me he was telling the truth. For a moment, I was tempted to open my second sight to get a good look at the guy, but decided against it. The brief insight I got from his hand had been disturbing enough.

A low hum began to fill the air, and my eyes fell on the hovering police box, which had slowly begun to turn on its axis. Mouse let out a low huff, the first sound he'd made since we'd entered the alley. "Please tell me it's supposed to be doing that," I said flatly.

The Doctor gingerly leaned over the portal and patted the wooden box. "Oh yes," he said, approval glowing in his voice. "That's exactly what she's supposed to be doing."

She? Why did get the feeling he wasn't speaking metaphorically? Slowly, I turned to Murphy. I had known she'd left a few plot holes in her story, but I hadn't expected something quite so…holey. "Murph?" I prompted.

"It's called the TARDIS," she said reluctantly. "The Doctor said it's trying to slow the portal." Okay, one plot hole filled up, doesn't explain how Murphy got involved in the first place, though.

"Sergeant Murphy helped me out of a rather sticky situation last night," the Doctor said. "The scavenger managed to get it's hands on a gun and decided to 'take me out'. The sergeant here showed him the error of his ways."

Murphy shifted on her feet. "I was on my way home from my shift and saw it chasing the Doctor down this alley. It was pretty obvious it wasn't human so I thought it might be something that had climbed out of undertown looking for a bite to eat," she explained.

"Well, you got the 'bite to eat' part right," the Doctor said dryly.

Murphy snorted. "Anyway, I clipped the thing on its arm, and it went crazy; started foaming at the mouth, and screaming some gibberish at the top of his voice. Next thing I know, this small, glowing hole ripped opened in the asphalt and it jumped inside. I've seen you use portals before, so…" she shrugged.

"Unfortunately, as you can see, the portal didn't close after him," the Doctor said. "Luckily, I was able to slow it's growth but it's beginning to gather momentum, so if I don't reverse the process soon, it's going to take out a rather large chunk of Chicago…sorry."

"You can do that, close the portal?" I asked warily. The opening and closing of a portal is pretty delicate work. I can manage it, barely, but I'm clumsy at it. Less like a window into another reality, and more like a ragged ripped hole. The portal in the alley fell somewhere between those two extremes.

"With the help of the TARDIS, certainly," he said. "But Sergeant Murphy seems a little bit dubious about my intentions, which is why you're here." The Doctor looked at me expectantly and I slid a glance at Murphy, unsure as to what she wanted.

"He seems on the up and up, but I wanted to make sure this couldn't go horribly wrong before I let him go ahead," she said.

I hesitated. The truth was, it could go horribly wrong. As in catastrophically, apocalyptically wrong. But the Doctor was right, if the portal wasn't closed, downtown Chicago would soon be a crater in the ground. I wondered what would he do if I said no. Would the Doctor just say, 'righty-o then' - or whatever aliens with a British accent say when you tell them thanks, but no thanks - or would he just ignore me and do it anyway?

I also wondered what Murphy would say if I told her that the chirpy British guy was in reality an alien from outer space. She probably thought he was some kind of 'out-of-towner' wizard.

Well, at least she got the out of town part right.

"Do it," I said.

With a grin, the Doctor pulled a contraption out of his pocket. It looked like a cross between an old egg timer and a hand whisk but I kept my mouth shut. I once used a toy duck to hunt down a thief, everyone to their own tools.

Obviously, Murphy was thinking along the same lines. A grin appeared on her face. "At least it isn't play dough," she teased.

"Good stuff, play dough," the Doctor muttered absently as he twiddled with the timer. "Handy for all sorts of things. Wouldn't have any on you, would you?"

"Uh, back in the car," I muttered, scowling half-heartedly at Murphy as she barked out a laugh.

The contraption in the Doctor's hand let out a high-pitched squeal, and Mouse answered with a whine of his own. The TARDIS shuddered and began to turn counter-clockwise, quickly picking up speed. The light on top of the box began to glow, and the entire box was suddenly surrounded by a halo of orange light.

"Huon particles," the Doctor said, answering my questioning look. "Part of the TARDIS's power source."

"Huon particles?" Murphy asked.

"Fairy dust," I joked.

"Huh, wouldn't surprise me."

I looked down at the portal and, sure enough, it had begun to shrink. The TARDIS was a blur, a spinning top of blue and orange, and I blinked to get the rising dust out of my eyes. The alley was beginning to resemble the touch point of a tornado.

"Is it going to get much faster?" Murphy asked, raising her voice to be heard over the howl of the gathering gale.

"Don't ask me, I'm just an innocent bystander."

"You were never innocent, Dresden!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who was waylaying people down a dark alley."

"Bite me!"

The garbage bags began to shudder, and I ducked on reflex as one lifted into the air and got pulled into the TARDIS's wake. The bag ripped open, and the air was suddenly full of cardboard cartons and paper cups. "Hasn't this guy heard of recycling?" I asked rhetorically as a passing milk carton clobbered me. Murphy glared at me, and I grinned as I noticed the ravioli decorating her hair. Guess they didn't clean out their cartons before they dumped them.

"Hold on," the Doctor yelled. "It's going to get a little bit bumpy."

Going to? I looked around for something to hold onto, but I couldn't make out where the drainpipes were through the garbage and dust.

"Harry, down here!" I looked down to see Murphy lying flat on the ground. I joined her. A hand clasped mine, and I tried to bite back a cry of protest as the Doctor's aura impinged on mine. The Doctor ignored my discomfort and held on tight, his other hand grimly holding onto Murphy's wrist. I wondered what he would do if we suddenly started to lift from the ground. He didn't look heavy enough to anchor down a kitten. I risked a glance over his head and spotted Mouse, his heavy weight keeping the Doctor firmly affixed to the ground.

Yeah, that would do it.

"Nice dog," the Doctor yelled. "Temple dog, isn't it?"

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I get around."

A loud, resounding thump cut through the gale's cry, and the wind's tug on my body began to ease. I bobbled my head up and winced as a plastic container hit it; gravity once more laying claim to the alley. Mouse huffed and got to his feet, shaking himself to get rid of the alley's grime. It didn't work; I saw a doggy bath in his future.

"Is it over?" Murphy asked tentatively.

"Looks like it," I said as I sat up, shaking myself loose from the Doctor's grip. The TARDIS stood quietly in the alley, bits of paper and diner food gracing its outer shell. The portal was gone.

"Empty Night," I complained, noticing the bits of egg smeared down the length of my leather coat as I stood. "You couldn't have conjured up something a less…less…windy, could you?"

Conjured?" the Doctor echoed, puzzled; which answered one very big question for me. The Doctor may get around, but he wasn't clued in. Probably for the best, really, he was dangerous enough as he was.

"Never mind," I sighed, as I held out a hand to Murphy, who glared at it for a moment before taking it. I hauled her to her feet. "Love the ravioli, Murphy, it's very you."

Murphy smirked, and suddenly I knew that my hair had something infinitely worse in it. I ran my fingers through it and pulled out something wet and gooey. Prawn cocktail, great.

The Doctor didn't look much better. Coffee stained the front of his blue, pinstriped suit, and a few soggy looking fries had made a home in his hair. The manic grin was still plastered on his face, however. "Well, problem solved," he said cheerfully. "Good thing, that, it was getting a bit dicey towards the end." He strolled over to the TARDIS, pulled out a key on a long chain from underneath his shirt, and inserted it into the box's lock. The door opened with a squeak, and the Doctor grinned at us over his shoulder. "Don't suppose I could give you two a lift?"

Murphy snorted. "You can't be serious?"

"Actually, I think he is," I said, tempted. Mouse nudged my hand, and I looked down into his enquiring eyes. "Another time," I said reluctantly.

"Ah well, have it your way," the Doctor said. My eyes rested on the phone attached to the boxes exterior and couldn't help but laugh. "What?" the Doctor asked.

"ET phone home," I said, with a grin.

His eyes followed mine. "Hah! Doesn't work, you know. It's not real."

I kind of figured that out when it was hovering over the portal."

A nod, a grin and a backwards shuffle into the TARDIS was his goodbye, and Murphy and I stood there as the door banged shut.

"ET phone home?" Murphy eventually asked, her voice strained.

"'Fraid so."

A deep thrum emanated from the box, and a gently breeze floated through the alley as the TARDIS faded away.

"Explains a lot."

"Oh?"

"He kinda reminded me of you."

I didn't know what to say to that.

**FINIS**


End file.
